


Forgotten in the Dark

by magnedhead



Category: Endless Legend (Video Game)
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Infiltration, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-10 08:04:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17422055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnedhead/pseuds/magnedhead
Summary: Jalmar is a member of a squad of Forgotten infiltrating the Vaulter city of Vanzograd, when personal history gets involved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Dust on the Mountains**

It was bone-achingly cold on the snow-covered mountainside. Even smells were subdued by the cold and Jalmar's skin felt as if it was on fire. The howling of the wind was the only sound that could be heard on this side of the mountain. Where they were not covered in snow the rocks of the mountainside were black and foreboding. A large crowd of people dressed in slight clothes huddled against each other for warmth, crying out for their old home. But a short stones-throw from them a hole cut into the mountainside glowed with a warm, golden light. Men and women in steel-blue armour and holding loaded crossbows stood just inside the threshold of the mountainside entrance. Jalmar sat at the back of the crowd, temporarily distracted from the biting cold by the events in front of him.

"You can't do this!" Someone at the front shouted.

"We are your kin!" Someone else shouted.

A person dressed in the powered armour of a Dawn Officer stepped onto the raised platform just outside the warmth of the Vault-Door. The man's visor was up. Jalmar could not recognise him.

"Ogmar Laine! The High Court found you and your organisation guilty of High Treason, Illegal Alchemy and Unethical Experimentation. For these crimes and more you and your organisation are sentenced to exile!" Behind the Officer the giant titanium doors of the Vault began closing slowly but inexorably.

"Thol!" A man in the front of the crowd shouted. Even over the distance and the howling of snow and wind Jalmar recognised the poise and Dust-tattoos of their illustrious 'leader', Ogmar Laine. "Did I not save your daughter with this 'illegal' alchemy?"

The Officer looked away, not meeting Ogmar's gaze. "The High Court has spoken. Good luck Laine, may the Orrery guide your way."

With that the Officer Thol turned and walked back through the Vault-Door. The thick door shut with a booming noise and the warm light was gone, casting the scene in the black and white of the snow-covered rocks. The storm was so fierce that now Laine was the only visible person, his radiant Dust-tattoos a beacon on the cold mountainside. The defences of the Vaulters were impenetrable and yet Jalmar could still hear people screaming and clawing at the closed door.

"My people!" Ogmar shouted, his voice cutting through the howling of the storm. "Come with me, we are leaving."

Without another word Ogmar turned and began descending the mountainside with sure strides. One by one the people followed him. Not a soul stayed behind.


	2. Shadow in Winter

Jalmar remembered the time that followed. He usually wished he didn't. It had been harrowing in the extreme and most of the exiles had not survived. He made a fist on front of him, the Dust-tattoos shifting on his skin. Even in the night-time darkness of the Vaulter warehouse they were plainly visible, a dash of golden radiance in the darkness. But then Jalmar knew very well they would be. The tattoos were curious. Infused with the mysterious Dust-substance, they were only fully visible to other Forgotten or when he desired them to be. And right now, he did no desire to be seen. This wasn't his first rodeo, as his cover-persona would say. He leaned around the corner slowly and peered down the corridor. The single corridor led from one end of the warehouse to the other, with several doorways branching off on the left. The floor was solid and unadorned stonework, the door-frames made with local timber and the walls plaster. Darkened lanterns hung from the wall on the right. Titanium storm-lanterns. Normally they would burn through any wind or weather until their fuel was exhausted. Kiira, sitting on the other side of the doorway with her hood up well past her hawkish nose, had seen to that little obstacle. Signalling to his companions that the coast was clear, Jalmar slipped around the corner and inside the corridor. The shuffling of muffled feet behind him were barely audible even to his sharpened senses. Matleena went in after him and Kiira. The larger man was the noisiest of the bunch, though still as quiet as a mouse. A Dust-alloy short-sword at his hip was muffled with black cloth to mask the gleam and the sound. Kaleva was last in and when they were all inside, she closed the door behind them. The door cut off what little light came from the street and cast the storage-room in darkness. Jalmar had to wait a moment for his sight to adjust. Soon enough the grey stone underfoot came back into view. As soon as he could easily see the doorway into the second storeroom he moved forward cautiously. There were no windows through which they could be seen from the streets, but he kept his posture low. He paused briefly at the threshold of the door, looking through the thin opening. The interior was, if anything, even darker than the corridor they were in. Jalmar could just about make out the rows of shelves heavy with sacks. Those sacks should be full of grain, the surplus of ever-shorter summers. Supplies for ever-longer winters. These supplies were their target. Jalmar gingerly poked at the wicker-cage secured to his belt. He could tell that the creature within was still in the cage from how it weighed on his hip, but he was still nervous that the rat-like creature had chewed through his leather belt. Each of his fellow Forgotten carried a similar cage, each with one of the beasts inside. Any more than one of them in such a small space and the stronger would devour the other. As he examined the cage, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Kaleva was ready behind him. Jalmar quickly strode in and to the right. Kaleva passed on his left before he had even turned the corner, her knife out and cutting at the sacks. The precious grain soon littered the floor as the two Forgotten set about their work. Jalmar cautiously climbed a few of the shelves to open the sacks that were stored closer to the flat ceiling. He was hanging by a hand from one such shelf when he heard an owl-call. Kaleva had finished. He slashed at one of the topmost sacks then dropped adroitly to the floor, legs bending just-so to absorb the fall. Cupping his hands together he called back. They did not have to wait long before similar calls could be heard from the other room.

The little beasts were a discovery from their new homeland. A body like a large rat, a ferocious appetite and a unique ability to metabolise food near-instantly. They will eat till nothing was left, growing meters in minutes, then go in search for more. Judging by the amount of grain stored here, each of the beasts would reach the size of cave bears before moving on. Jalmar and Kaleva each set their cages on the floor and opened them, and the furry shapes sped out to disappear amongst the shelves. He didn't care to wait around to watch the critters go about their greedy work, so he carefully put the cage in his belt again and shuffled out to the corridor. Kaleva and the others were waiting for him in the hallway, an empty wicker cage in their belts. He signalled to Kiira that they had completed their half. With one last look over the group Kiira turned about and headed for the door opposite the one they had entered but 5 minutes ago.

Kiira stopped at the side of the door and slowly opened it just enough to peer through. The group quietened their breathing as they waited for Kiira. Kiira motioned behind her slowly and deliberately, 1 finger extended. 1 sentry in their way. A few more hand signals flashed in quick succession. Lantern. Armed. Wait for passing.

So, the crew waited. A long moment passed. Kiira was still signalling to wait. From the rooms behind them they heard a squeal of pain as two of the glutton-beasts were probably fighting over some sack of food. Making noise. Jalmar had an idea. Behind them the glutton-beasts were becoming increasingly noisy as they grew, consuming months of food in minutes. The scraping of wood-on-stone was clearly audible in the dark corridor. He leaned forward and tapped Kiira on the shoulder, whispering in her ear. "Kiira, the racket from those beasts is going to draw attention sooner rather than later. We can't afford hanging around."

There was a throaty grunt from the storeroom behind them. Kiira tensed under Jalmar’s hand. "So, what do you propose, Butcher?"

"Let me at the crack, I'll handle it." Jalmar replied.

Kiira's expression did not seem cooperative but she shuffled back anyway, allowing Jalmar to peer out of the door. A single person in the uniform of the city watch was standing alone in the little alleyway that ran alongside the small warehouse they were in. In one hand the sentry held a lit lantern of a similar make to the ones hanging inside the warehouse. A crossbow and a small quiver of bolts hang from the person's belt. The sentry turned towards the warehouse they were in and Jalmar saw a pair of steel-blue eyes and a beard sticking out over the chainmail vest of the uniform. A man, then. Jalmar retreated a small distance from the crack of the door, not wanting his eyes to be seen. The eyes of the Forgotten carried a hue like their gold Dust-tattoos. The man seemed interested in the odd noises from the warehouse but did not otherwise seem to have spotted a pair of Dust-glow eyes peering out at him. Jalmar slowed his breathing as much as he dared and slowly and slipped a dagger from its sheath. The man raised the lantern towards the door and took a couple of long strides in their direction. Behind Jalmar the other Forgotten cautiously shuffled backwards while Jalmar retreated a step further from the crack and took hold of the door handle. The moment Jalmar felt the door move, he ripped the door open and reached forwards quick as a viper to catch the man's arm. Caught by surprise, the watchman couldn't keep his balance when Jalmar pulled him forwards onto his readied blade and onto the floor. Nothing but a wet gurgle escaped the man as his windpipe was immediately severed and the cobbled floor was stained with his blood. In but a moment the man had stopped moving.

"Damn it Bogovil, we were to avoid killing if we were able. We could have avoided a single sleep-deprived sentry," Kiira spat at him, then kicked the cooling body on the floor, "Now they'll wonder how he died."

Jalmar looked at her with a grin from ear to ear. "Ah, but how long can the glutton-beasts resist such a tasty morsel within such easy reach? There'll be little left for the guards to ponder over, let alone suspect that he did not just stumble upon 4 hungry beasts the size of bears."

Kiira still looked cross, but their companions seemed more amused.

“No matter,” Kiira said in an irritated tone, “We can't bring him back from the dead and we cannot bring him with us either. If this job is compromised by a single dead guard then the punishment is coming out of your pocket, Bogovil.”

Jalmar smiled still as he affected a mock bow. Their task finished, the group vanished into the night-time streets of Vanzograd.


	3. Dawn

Reija Bogovil breathed a deep sigh. The clouds were only just taking some colour from the sun peeking over the horizon and already her nose was full of the stench of blood and dung. The contents of the warehouse reported by the guard patrol, that was woefully far from their assigned route she might add, had been destroyed. Shelves had been torn down and clawed viciously in so many ways that it looked like a whole marketplace had been let loose. The floors of both storerooms were covered in piss and shit. But most importantly, all the grain sacks stored for the coming winter had been destroyed. Torn open, emptied of their precious contents and strewn about the room. Here and there Reija could see single pieces of grain scattered about the rooms, but even if you cleaned and bagged all of them there would barely be enough for a single loaf of bread. Months of winter supplies reduced to a few meals in a single night. Even the grain on the shelves had been taken. Reija went back into the adjoining corridor and grabbed the nearest uniformed sentry. The woman nearly balked at her when she turned around but before the sentry could say anything, her gaze darted to the Dawn Officer insignia pinned to Reija's uniform. Her expression mellowed quickly.

"Reija Bogovil, Canton of Investigation." What happened here?" Reija flashed her Canton insignia. She knew that the sentry had noticed, but procedure must be followed.

The guards-woman affected a quick salute. "Ma'am. We believe some creatures slipped past the walls and got at the supplies stored in this building."

"Well that much is obvious," Reija replied rather more curtly than intended, "What creatures?"

The guards-woman nodded, though now her expression seemed more guarded. "We have only found 4 of the beasts so far."

"Only?" Reija replied whilst screwing up her nose at the stench in the room. She could swear there was the briefest hint of a smile on the guard's face.

"They are very big, easily the size of the bears that come down from the mountains-"

"But you're thinking that even 4 big cave bears couldn't eat 2 whole storerooms worth of grain." Reija interjected. The guards-woman just nodded.

There was a moment of silence between the two as Reija looked about the scene. How had a herd of beasts the size of bears gotten past their walls and patrols?

"If you want to see the beasts, they're still where we left them out in the alleyway through that door." The guards-woman said, pointing at the door opposite from where Reija had entered. "We tried to shift them, but we would be at it all day." She added, rubbing her shoulders absent-mindedly.

Nodding and thanking the woman, Reija left the stench of excrement in the warehouse to find the alleyway stinking of blood. A welcome change, if not by much. The morning sunlight was only just showing on the roofs of the buildings opposite the warehouse. Most of the alleyway was taken up by the 4 beasts the woman had spoken off and the guards that were standing around them, crossbows ready. The guards-woman had been right; the beasts were indeed the size of cave bears, if not even larger. Reija had never seen nor heard of creatures like these. They had a mangy-looking brown fur tinged at the tips with what looked like flecks of gold. Dust. Reija had seen the substance a few times before. Their maws looked more rat-like than bear and bears did not have long naked tails like these beasts did. Lastly, she noticed a smaller pile a little way removed, covered in linen and a lantern and broken crossbow placed beside it. A youngster perhaps?

She introduced herself to the guards much like she had to their colleague inside. At first, they greeted her like a colleague, but the atmosphere cooled when they saw her Dawn Officer insignia. When prompted they explained that they had arrived at the building slightly before sun-up and had initially seen nothing amiss, till one of the beasts had burst from the warehouse with a maw covered in blood. It is fortunate that during night-time, Vanzograd patrols are properly armed. Two of the guards from the patrol had been clawed in the fight but they had quickly received medical attention. After they had dispatched the beasts they had sent for backup, which was why Reija was present, and had explored the carnage in the warehouse. They had found a sole guard that must have run afoul of the beasts during their feeding. He had been savagely killed and partially eaten.

Reija held a hand over her nose and mouth as the guards showed her the body. She had to fight her revulsion to register what they were saying to her. The body was gone below the upper torso. The uniform had been shredded and ripped, presumably by the claws of the mysterious beasts. The lantern was broken, the metal frame crushed, and the glass shattered. The frame even had bite marks on it.

She took a deep breath and pointed and prodded at the corpse, asking both the guards beside her and her own intuition for answers. She could not keep that up for long. After a little while Reija had to look away to keep her composure, eyes lingering on the massive bear-like beasts instead. Mind wandering, her eyes spotted something she hadn't noticed looking only at the body of the dead guard. Gathering herself, she looked back down at the mutilated corpse, pointing at a wound just above the collarbone.

"That looks different." It was dead centre above the protective collarbone. The torso area was not without a mass of cuts and punctures, but none were higher than this single puncture wound. Beyond a bruise on the forehead and some grit, the head was untouched.

"Just an errant claw I suppose. Some of them have grown a little funny."

Alexander had always said she should be grateful for her continued revulsion at seeing the dead. That it showed it wasn't getting to her soul, making her jaded. Right now, she simply feared she would lose her breakfast.

She wished Alexander was still with her. The times since the Great Quake had been tough. Many had not come out of the Vaulter tunnels as the mountains turned against them, and many more had not survived the winter that followed. Thinking back, she also wished Jalmar had not been exiled. As much as she was loath to admit it, Alexander had been a poor replacement for Jalmar. Jalmar had been her husband and a great friend of Alexander's until Ogmar Laine's exile, when he and his disciples, Jalmar included, had been exiled from their world. From her world. They had been branded heretics to the Order of the Great Orrery and in breach of many laws and ethics of their society. Reija and Alexander, suddenly bereft of someone important to them, had found some solace in each other's company. The purges and restructuring that came after the exiling kept them both busy. Time had nurtured the wounds of their shared loss and still they were together. Until the Quake. For weeks after, Reija had searched for information on his whereabouts but had turned up nothing. She had lost 2 people important to her in the space of a year.

She left the alleyway and its loathsome stench behind to emerge onto one of Vanzograd's larger streets. With the sun up and the cold of night slowly receding, but very much still present, the day's work was beginning. Reija stepped into the flow of the crowd and followed the pace. Something nagged at her as she kept the meandering pace of the crowds, some small itch she couldn't quite place.

 _“If there are more of those beasts hiding in the city, the granaries will be at risk.”_ Reija thought to herself. The proper resources would be distributed once the Central Canton was alerted, but Reija felt it unnecessarily risky to wait that long.

She needed to get to the Canton of Supplies, turning about to head the opposite way. For a moment the flow of the crowd worked against her but her increased stature and visible status as a Dawn Officer parted the crowd quickly enough. Reija was not a short woman to begin with and the powered armour of the Officers increased that height further. She walked in her own little bubble on the street, a good arms-length of space to either side. The nagging feeling remained even as she arrived at her destination and strode up the steps of the Central Administration. Being both the seat of local government and the centre for research and administration of the city, it was built as a cluster of towers, dominating the centre of the city and offering a view over the entirety of Vanzograd. Windows on the tall towers glittered in the day's sparse sunlight. Reija just wondered how people could stand ascending that many stairs every day just to get to their office.

 

The guards at the door recognised Reija’s outfit immediately and opened the door for her. Snapping a quick salute, she strode in. A bell above the doorway made a soft tingling sound at Reija's passing, announcing her arrival to the sparsely-furnished entrance-room. Wooden benches lined the walls and a long oak counter-top sat by the far wall, otherwise the room was bare and cold stone.

An elderly woman emerged through a door in the uniform of the administrative staff, all harsh grey lines with a dark-blue sash. "Good day to you officer. What brings you here this day?"

"Good day to you as well miss. I'm here to speak with the Canton of Supplies." Reija placed her Dawn Officer-insignia on the counter-top.

The clerk examined it for a moment then handed the titanium insignia back. "If you would follow me, I'll take you to one of our registrars." Reija simply nodded in way of a reply. Another door was opened by a guard from the far side and Reija followed the woman. The corridor beyond had a multitude of doors, marked with the various symbols of the Canton. 

The woman opened a door with a symbol of a quill and invited Reija to enter. "Please take a seat inside, a clerk should be with you shortly." A row of chairs sat along the wall of the room past the door. The woman left while Reija sat down.

The waiting room she had been put in was another affair of dull, grey stone with little ornamentation. Thankfully she did not have to wait long; A broad man with the blue sash of the Canton of Supplies came to fetch her, introducing himself as Bratsla and enthusiastically shaking her hand.

"So pleased to meet a Dawn Officer." Bratsla said as the he led Reija out of the waiting room and into another set of offices where bland-faced clerks sat shuffling abacuses and papers about. This room was much larger with a tall ceiling to accommodate filing shelves and rolling stairs to store the ever-expanding archives of the Canton. Bratsla's table was a shining example of order-in-chaos, 3 stacks of papers competing in which would grow the biggest before toppling.

The clerk indicated a chair opposite where he sat at the table. It was more comfortable than the chair in reception, but the stuffiness of the room accounted for the difference in the end.

"So, what do you wish to discuss with the Canton, Lady Officer?" Bratsla had retrieved a fresh sheet of paper and a pen from the chaos of the table.

Reija glanced around the room at the other clerks, each of them seemingly absorbed in their work and uninterested in their visitor. "Anywhere with a touch of privacy?"

"Any business with the Canton can be said in this chamber," Bratsla replied with a hint of sternness, "We are all employed clerks of the Canton here."

Reija nodded in response. "Well then. There will be an official guard-report on this, so for now this is simply on the word of a Dawn Officer, but a warehouse down in the south-eastern Wallside district has been emptied."

Bratsla wrote as Reija talked. "Emptied?"

"All the grain was eaten.” Reija responded.

“By criminals? All in one night?” Bratsla asked, disbelief plain in his voice.

“Not by criminals,” Reija continued, “But by creatures somewhat like cave bears with features of rats. We are not sure how they came in or how many more are in the city, but the Canton should take steps to secure all the other warehouses in the city immediately.” If not for her position as a Dawn Officer, she doubted anyone would have believed that.

"There must have been a great many of these beasts for them to be able to empty a whole warehouse." Bratsla said with a tone of scepticism.

“The patrol that made the discovery killed 4 of them and did not report meeting any more of the beasts in the area.”

Reija made a motion as if to wave the doubt away then continued. "Their numbers matter little. What matters is that there might be more and if so, the warehouses would be in danger, something we can ill afford with another winter approaching."

Bratsla stopped writing for a moment, tapping the point of his quill on the inkpot. "Indeed. The previous winter nearly depleted our stores and there is no indication that this one is going to be any shorter."

Reija nodded. "Just so. The official report from the Watch should arrive today I imagine but I see no need to wait for that in planning how to respond."

Bratsla looked briefly at the piles of work on his table then sighed. "I'll see what I can do but I cannot promise anything."

"Do not concern with promises to me, this is not for my own good but that of the city. Hopefully your superiors will see that." Reija responded with a chuckle.


	4. Interests

Balathu Malesaria thanked the woman crewing the street food stall and went back on his way, pulling his clothes tighter around him. He had lived in Vanzograd for well over a year now and still he had not accustomed himself to the damnable cold. He wore a thick pale fur coat over his Clan colours and still the wind and the cobbled streets seemed to cut through to his very bones. At least his hands were warm. Balathu was somewhat of a regular at the food-stalls of the larger streets. While the food of the city was nothing like the cuisine of his clan, it was at least very nourishing. It needed to be. Compared to the nomadic trader lifestyle of the Clans, the Vaulters led hard lives in the cold shadows of the Horlaken mountain-range. Even after the Great Quake had drastically changed life in the surrounding regions the range was still massive, towering over the city even at this distance. How anyone could even think of living there was beyond the Clan ambassador. _Pity about their coffee though._ He thought. The mountain-folk brewed the beverage but they did not seem to care about the taste of it. Just that it kept a man warm and working for a few more hours.

He kept a careful hold on the 2 large pies he had purchased as he extricated himself from the crowd. The two guards on watch outside his ambassadorial house saluted at his approach. They were residents of Vanzograd, their guard-uniform adorned with a simplified version of Balathu's own clan colours. Hands fully occupied with his large breakfast he simply nodded in return. The embassy building was much like every other building in Vanzograd, a square grey-blue block. In deference to the style of his clan some embroidered canvases had been hung up along the sides. While he appreciated the gesture, it did little to alleviate the brick-like nature of the architecture. One of the guards opened the steel-blue titanium gate and followed him to the door. It was not locked. Balathu kept all his items of true worth on his person. The door opened, he thanked the guard and went inside. A large luxurious carpet covered the room of his entrance hall from wall to wall. He had brought it with him when he had travelled to the city. Soothing to the eyes. He hurried through the hall and into the personal dining hall, tracking mud and grime from the streets with him and over the carpet. Ultimately not his problem, and besides, there was likely going to be a lot more dirt coming through before the day was done. The 2 meat-pies were set on the spacious round dining table and the lid of a pot put over each to preserve the heat. After closing the door to the windowed kitchen, Balathu Malesaria sat down gently in one of the low chairs surrounding the table and carved a slice of pie for himself. While the meal was ultimately not intended for him, he had also not had a bite to eat since waking. One thing he had achieved during his time in the city was to shake the Early-Bird habits of his clan. With the onset of winter close at hand and the trade deals of the summer finalised he had little to do but wait for correspondence. However, this morning he had gotten up bright and early.

He brought the slice of pie up and took a sizeable bite. It was a far cry from the dishes of home or the ambassadorial dinners at the various embassies of the city, but it was hearty and at perfect temperature. Licking his fingers, he quickly wolfed down the remainder of the slice. The house was silent except for him. _They won't mind if I take a little more._ With a deft cut of the knife a much smaller slice was freed. With habits formed from a hundred formal dinners Balathu reached for his drink only to close his hand around nothing. Grumbling his annoyance, mostly at his own forgetfulness, Balathu got up from his chair and poured a cup of water from a chilled pitcher. It would not need to be artificially cooled for much longer. The Clanner shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Vanzograd growing even colder.

He turned back to the dining room and gently sat down. It was his own home but the guests he would be entertaining made him feel uncomfortable. Without looking he reached for the slice of pie he had cut just a moment ago. His hand found only crumbs. Dumbfounded, he looked at the tray. The knife was where he had left it, but the small slice was gone.

"Looking for this?" The voice was feminine and sharp as a knife. Balathu nearly jumped out of the chair he was in.

The woman standing by his kitchen doorway was short but clearly muscular, skin-tone a kind of dark greyish brown, as though she was caught in the light of twilight. A swirling design of Dust-tattoos belied the mottled appearance. Her black hair was tied up in a long braid that went past her shoulders. Her clothes were so dark-blue as to be nearly black and clung tightly to her form, the various straps and belts brimming with weapons and tools. The man in him wanted to see what was hidden beneath those mottled clothes. The Clanner in him knew that would be akin to asking to see the jaws of a lion up close. Fascinating, impressive. Deadly.

"Lady Soininen, I did not notice your arrival." He could see the slightest flicker of a grin on her face at the quiver in his voice.

"That was rather the point of hiring us, was it not? " Kiira Soininen responded before eating the rest of the slice she had silently taken from his plate. Her Dust-radiant eyes never left him, "And neither me nor Kaleva appreciate being called Lady. That is a trapping of the city-folk."

Balathu resisted the urge to clear his throat. "Ah, but my people are nomads, not people of the cities, and yet we still refer to women of dignity as ladies."

Kiira strode over to the table. "As I said, neither of us are ladies."

Now he had to resist the urge to back away. The shades he had hired all had an air of danger about them. "I take that your amiable mood means the job went well?"

The woman laid one pie above the other and lifted them with a sure grip. "I doubt you will hear much of it aside from rumour-mongers but yes, the warehouse was emptied of supplies. When we have rested, and the situation permits it, we intend to move onto the next objective."

"Ah, good, good. I believe I can arrange for an advance payment once the second task has been carried out." He could think of little else to say as the Forgotten woman nodded briefly at him then walked out of the dining hall without a sound, pies in hand.


	5. Spot in the Shade

Beneath the blinded window the citizens of Vanzograd passed by unbeknownst to Jalmar's presence. Not that that knowledge would change much. Only the most paranoid or naive would doubt that the exiles of over 15 years ago had died in that winter. And once this job was done that certainty would be unchanged.

His brooding was interrupted by a knocking sound, muffled knuckles on hardwood. The agreed-upon pattern. Their teachers would have called Kiira a romantic; it was the same pattern they had used since they had finished training.

A door opened on near noiseless hinges and Kiira stepped inside. The smell of warm stewed meat filled the dingy shop while Jalmar re-joined the others in the main room. The small abandoned store they had borrowed from their client for the duration of the job had been made to be lived in, with a second floor containing a bed and other furnishings. The ground floor was more cramped, low tables with shelves and cabinets taking up as much space as feasible for the storing and display of goods. The shades had used one of the cabinets for storing their more cumbersome or fragile equipment but otherwise kept their gear on their person.

There was the barest clink of ceramic on wood when Kiira set down the 2 large pies she had brought. One had a small slice missing but it should still be plenty to sate the hunger set by the night's work.

"With regards from our client." Kiira said while her knifework neatly divided the pies into generous slices.

"Regards to you or to us?" Matleena asked while she pulled up a chair.

"His words said us, but his eyes said me." Kiira answered in between chuckles and bites of food.

Jalmar dragged his own chair over with no comment. The night's work had left them all tired and hungry. They ate quickly and in silence. Kaleva cleared the table and maps and notes were rolled out, displaying the warehouses that were the target for their next job.

"Another crapshoot full of grain. How exciting." Kaleva muttered as they each pored over the pages. The young daughter of Ogmar Laine had inherited more of her mother’s slurs than of her father’s talent at alchemy.

"Maybe you should ask your father to arrange for a new team for you if this one is so dis-satisfactory." Kiira responded. The group had worked together on nearly every job for several years now. Kaleva always complained at some point.

"As if that old coot even listens to a word I say. Nah, just let me pick the next job." Kaleva said, clapping Kiira on the shoulder.

"And I presume we are using some other method than the glutton-beasts this time?" Matleena scratched at the stubble on his chin. Both him and Jalmar were putting off shaving till they could quit this city. To the older man's chagrin, Matleena had, potentially, a full head of hair and a faster-growing beard than he. He kept his hair short for jobs but had to do so with a scissor before they left their sanctuaries. Jalmar was just plain bald. Had been well before they had been sent into exile. His wife Reija had never seemed to mind. Looking back, he had never investigated what happened to her during the great quakes that had shook up the entire region and destroyed the tunnels and caves the Vaulters used to live in.

"And Jalmar. Jalmar? Jalmar!" A spike of pain. Kiira Soininen had brought him rudely out of his reminiscence with a jab to the shoulder. He simply responded with a sullen stare. His mood always soured when he thought back to when they had been exiled.

"No killing this time. I'll give you that the glutton-beasts should dispose of a corpse readily enough, but fire isn't as reliable."

"If you don't want anyone dead why did you bring me along?" He retorted.

Kiira snorted. "It's not like killing is your only skill, we all know that."

"It's just the one you most enjoy." Kaleva added with a chuckle.

Jalmar didn't respond, taking a drink from his water-skin.

Kiira called for attention with a sharp clap. "Now, to repeat; First we scout the place. patrol routes, layout, nearest fire-watch patrol. Then we use the powder from our blast charges to accelerate the fire inside the warehouse, making it look like a lantern broke," Kiira pointed to a general map of the city with 4 buildings marked with red paint, "Then we split up and hide in the safe-houses until it's safe to return." There were nods of understanding around the table. "Any final questions?"

Silence.

Kiira began rolling up the maps and charts. "Good. Get some rest. Come waking, we're back on the job."

 

Jalmar took special care to remove the knives from the sheaths on his limbs. He kept one on his chest and draped the enormous rainbow-shawl over himself to cover it. Shoulder-length gloves covered his arm-tattoos and a turban covered up the tattoos on his bald head. Slinging his sack of food and wares over his shoulder he left their little hideout through the hidden door and out through the embassy. Their client must be elsewhere for no-one to come in to check on the man walking through the house, consciously making an effort to step loudly. Jalmar didn't like the man and couldn't put his finger on why. Luckily Kiira was doing all the wrangling on this one.

Vanzograd was one of the first cities erected around the time of the devastating earthquakes that drove the Vaulters down from the mountains. From high vantage points it sprawled out before him like a titanium carpet, the massive industrial sectors belching out smoke from their furnaces. The residential districts were vast cross-sections, the houses large blocks with little in the way of external decoration. Droves of Vaulters walked along the cobbled streets under the sun that was dipping towards evening. The guards manning the fence-gate into the courtyard turned at the sound of the door closing. Jalmar strode forward confidently, grinning from ear to ear. The gate was opened so he could pass through, the guards pointedly ignoring him otherwise. He paused at the gate's threshold for a moment to identify a passer-by going in the direction he needed, hand reaching into his pack for a ware to hawk while he caught up to his chosen target.

 

His victim was in a hurry but so was Jalmar and he followed the man pace for pace. They had reached halfway to the warehouse before his target, whom Jalmar had learned was named Brogvil, threatened to call the guards on him. Jalmar gave Brogvil a ceramic bowl 'for his time' then left with a grin on his face before the man could respond. He purchased an early dinner from a stall and feigned interest in the city as he continued his winding route towards the warehouse.

While he sat on the curb finishing off the last bite of dinner, a pair in uniform rounded the corner he himself had just passed. A man and woman, the two were probably on patrol and hopefully in the district he needed to scout. The crew needed to know the patrol-routes but judging by the nearly-empty street he wouldn't be able to tail them effectively. Just as the patrol turned to look at him, he rose and advanced, a grin on his face, shawls and ceramics in hand.

"A most splendid day to you two!" He shouted with a far more boisterous tone than he would normally affect.

"Good day." The man replied with little pleasure. The woman started laughing.

Jalmar did not attempt to disguise that he was selling wares and not simply out enjoying the 'splendid day'. It was like a juggling act how cups and pieces of jewellery emerged from and disappeared into the sack. Like his first victim of the day the guards tried to shake him by walking faster but he was not dissuaded.

Throughout the whole time only the man had spoken. The woman had switched between smiles and outright laughter at her colleague's discomfort. But as he presented a shawl threaded with Dust she spoke up.

"Where do you live in the city, Mr Dohar?" Her tone was curious, but her body language told him she was trying very hard to appear casual.

"Ah, but the Embassy! Ambassador Malesaria believes there is much our Clans can learn from your folk so that we might thrive even in the dark winter that is to come."

Mentioning the ambassador seemed to throw the guards-woman off, if only ever so slightly. "And where is your Clan from, before you came to Vanzograd I mean."

"Our usual haunt is the Siriin Desert. It lies far to the east. It saddened our chief greatly when the last winter decimated the dunes and the island chain we called home." Jalmar replied, sniffing and wiping his eyes against mock tears.

"Huh," The guard replied, "You sound more like you come from Millowich or Laneyl, you know, the northern cities."

Jalmar smiled broadly. Kaleva would have called it a 'shit-eating grin'. "Aha! I have been into tunnels on account of my clan doing some trading with a tribe of driders. Spices and select furnishings. May haps I picked up some accent from the tunnel walls!" He replied while stifling laughter.

That defused the tension that had begun to build. With a little more cajoling Jalmar convinced the woman to purchase the colourful shawl that he had presented. With a farewell and a good day, the guards continued their patrol, leaving Jalmar alone in the street. He shook the coloured vest and threw the scarf around his neck again then continued on his way. He wandered the district closest to the warehouse while making careful notes of guard patrols and sources of water. Occasionally he would intercept passers-by and offer them wares from the sack on his back. Sourced from Ambassador Malesaria, they were of good quality but were otherwise typical Clanner street wares, colourful ceramics and clothes, carved wood and knick-knacks with the odd Dust inlay. He did make a few sales, despite not putting as much gusto into the sale as he knew an actual Clanner would. Sometimes it felt like you had to beat a Clanner with a stick to get them to go away.

He spent the whole day in that manner. Sometimes he would see one of the others, similarly hawking wares to keep the disguise up or walking nonchalantly up and down streets bordering the warehouse. It was similarly protected to the warehouse they had already hit, with 2 armed patrols circling the area. Lanterns burned through the whole day and through the night as well. One vital difference between this and their first target was that this was closer to a residential district and further from the walls. There were simply more civilians wandering about at any time of day, compared to the warehouse-and-workshop district of last time. They would have to time their approach carefully. If a passer-by reported seeing 4 black-clad strangers walking into the warehouse on the eve of it going up in flames the jig would be up. To a similar end he spent some time selling a colourful shawl to a woman crewing the nearest well. A timely fire-watch response could render their efforts for naught, so they would need to find a way to disable or delay the fire-watch. And per Kiira’s request, without direct interference too. No knives in backs for this job.


	6. Best Served Cold

The sun set on Vanzograd. Lanterns were lit, and shifts switched. The great foundries of the city closed for the day, warm for hours yet from a full day of work. The towers of the city remained active, the lights kept inside making them easily visible throughout the entire city. And darkness fell. Jalmar sat on the roof of the Clanner embassy watching the last rays of the sun fade from beyond the walls of the city. The thoroughfares of the city were wide, both to allow for the passage of goods but also as an escape from the tunnels the Vaulters used to call home. But outside of these wide streets the workshops and houses were closely packed. They used the rooftops as much as possible, only climbing down to street level when they had a straight line towards the warehouse. A windowsill cracked as Matleena stepped on it during his ascent. By the time the guards had come to check out the crash of ceramics the group of shades were already well over the lip of the next rooftop.

During their days of scouting the patrols around the warehouse had increased in size and frequency. Initially Kiira had been nervous that their cover had been blown somehow but Kaleva had scouted a few other warehouses scattered throughout the city 'so Kiira will stop pissing and moaning.' All the other warehouses had seen a similar increase in activity, so the crew stuck to the job and adjusted their plans.

They carefully dropped to street level, taking care to choose their footing. A lantern in an alleyway was extinguished and a cluster of barrels provided a hiding spot while they waited for their moment. Before long a small patrol of two men rounded the corner of the warehouse, crossbows slung across their chest and a lantern in one hand. Brief signals were exchanged among the group.

When the patrol passed their little alleyway, Kiira sprang from her hiding place to land behind the two guards and, with a speed that was hard to follow with the naked eye, yanked their helmets off. Matleena had followed close behind Kiira and caught the helmets before they clattered onto the cobbles. The two men turned about in complete surprise only to receive the shade-woman's palms thrust onto their faces. Kiira's tattoos flared as she stepped forwards to grab hold of the men by their heads, holding them upright as their eyes rolled back and they lapsed into unconsciousness. Very few Forgotten could manipulate Dust like Kiira Soininen. Jalmar, and Kaleva hurried forwards too, the shades working in pairs to move the guards into the cover of the darkened alley before another patrol arrived. The next patrols came and went. After a tense wait, the gap previously covered by the now-comatose patrol arrived, and they hurried forwards again. It would probably only be a question of time before the patrols would notice their sleeping comrades or that there was a group-sized gap in their route.

The 4 shades crossed the divide between the alley and the building wall in a flash, huddling around the locked door. Shadows coiled around them as they waited for Kaleva to undo the lock. Jalmar always found it fascinating how the radiant Dust tattoos could draw in the darkness to conceal them, masking their own golden glow in the process. A muffled click told them Kaleva had succeeded and they were in, quietly closing the door behind them. They waited in the hallway of the warehouse until they could hear the voices and footfalls of the patrol pass by, then moved further inside. This warehouse was much like the previous one, a larger wide hallway lit by lanterns, open doorways leading into rooms with rows and rows of sacks filled with grain and similar long-lasting foodstuffs. Each room had at least one lantern to give light from a steady flame encased in glass and blue titanium. Matleena remained in the hallway while the others spread out, examining each lantern in the warehouse to determine which was most likely to fail under pressure. They could easily utilise all the lanterns to ignite the grain but that would rouse suspicion.

They had been performing that task for a while with promising results when Matleena knocked on the walls of the connecting hallway to signal trouble. A further signal simply said 'Guard'. Jalmar lowered the lantern he had been inspecting as quickly as he dared then darted into the darkest corner, willing the Dust to conceal him. It was only because the shade knew what to look for that he spotted the group's sentry-man using the same spot of darkness.

"One of them noticed the door was unlocked. They're waiting for the other patrol to come around then they'll quickly scout the warehouse and make sure the door is locked." The other man whispered while his Dust-golden eyes scanned the room.

"Let's hope for their sake that they don't notice us." Jalmar whispered back, one hand on the handle of the knife on his thigh.

They waited there for a few minutes before they could hear the door open and heavy footfalls enter the hallway outside the storeroom. Two marines burst into the far end of their room, each carrying a lantern and a loaded crossbow. From the wariness etched into their features, Jalmar guessed they had been expecting more of the glutton-beasts. The two marines took a few steps into the room and fanned the lanterns around to try and gain a better view of the room. _Thoroughly washing out their night-vision, the fools._ Jalmar thought, making sure to keep a relaxed grip on the thin dagger. The guards focused their attentions on the supplies, prodding and lifting a few of the grain-sacks to check for the glutton-beasts they must be sure had found this warehouse too. After a few painstakingly-long moments of searching the guards talked quietly between themselves and left, the connecting hallway growing dark again as the guards had clearly turned up nothing and left to continue their patrol. A loud click could be heard as the warehouse-door's lock was engaged. Jalmar waited a further long moment before rising.

"I should have locked the door behind us. That could have gone bad." Matleena whispered while he too stretched.

"That might be but keep it for later," Jalmar responded, "For now let's finish up and leave."

"Agreed. Check up on Kiira, see if they've found anything." When Jalmar just nodded in response Matleena left the room to continue his sentry duty.

Jalmar lifted the lantern again and finished his inspection. This one could do in a pinch, but he thought they would all prefer a more convincing culprit. Mentally listing all the lanterns he had inspected, for he was not finished, Jalmar knocked a signal on the nearest support-beam, kept low and crossed the hallway. He found Kiira and Kaleva sat in a shadow in the far corner discussing their next step in low tones. They each relayed their own findings.

Kiira relaxed to lean back against the wooden inner wall. "So, we have 3 lanterns that could feasibly break. Jalmar, you said that the one you found was only defective in the glass? The hook is fine?"

Jalmar nodded. The glass for that lantern must have been fired or shaped incorrectly for the heat of the flame inside was slowly breaking it, but the hook the lantern was hanging from was perfectly fine. It would last for decades without undue stress.

Kaleva pointed at a lantern hanging by the far wall on a peg close by one of the shelves. "The pecker on that one is coming out of the mortar and one of the hinges holding the hatches shut is loose."

"...And if it falls there is a good chance it would bounce into a sack. Seems like our best option. The one I got just had some dodgy metalwork but nothing serious. Kaleva, let's go with your find."

The other two shades nodded. Kiira stalked out into the hallway to inform Matleena while Kaleva showed Jalmar the faults she had discussed in detail. Jalmar reckoned they could yank the lantern out by hand, but best not to. It might leave more traces behind than necessary and they needed to begin setting the 'trap' first anyways. Traces of oil and explosive powder arrayed around where the lantern would land. That would help the shelf catch flame and then the sacks of grain would be rigged as well. Finally, they would damage the shelves slightly on one side to encourage their tumble onto the next shelf in line. That should start lighting up the whole structure, hopefully too quickly before the patrols would notice and help could arrive. And even if not, it would incinerate a lot of supplies in the process. And the shades would need carry out another raid to make up it.

All 4 of them were gathered in the storehouse-room. Outside the light of one of patrols passed by.

"Go!" Kiira urged. Kaleva rose and knocked on the top of the lantern. The moment they heard the faint crumbling of mortar and clay as the screw began tearing itself loose, bringing the lantern down with it, the shades were on the move. Matleena had picked the lock of the opposite door to their entry in advance. He held up a hand as the crew approached the unlocked door, ready to leave before flames began engulfing the warehouse. In the background Jalmar fancied he could hear the flames building as they waited but that was nonsense. Whatever Matleena had heard must have passed for the shade-man lowered his hand of warning and motioned for the group to continue. Kaleva was first out and she had barely cleared the threshold of the door before Kiira was on the move. Jalmar was next. He stepped through the narrow open slit and out into the darkness. Before the alchemy that had doomed them to exile, his eyes would need time to adjust to the darkness of the night. That had been a thing of the past for decades now. Even in the darkness he could see as well as if it was a bright summers day. To his left Kiira's slender legs were racing up the side of the warehouse as easily as if the woman was running along a street. Jalmar leapt up and grabbed the top of the door-frame and pulled himself up. The stone wall did not have many footholds, but the shades had practised long. Jalmar was hardly the most skilled acrobat amongst the group but by the time Matleena had locked the door behind them he was catching his breath in a shadow on the roof. The night was dark and cold, and the settling mist made the tiles of the roof treacherous and slippery.

“Once the guards notice either their sleeping comrades or the fire, we're out. Move to your safe-houses and lay low for a day or two. Then meet back at the hideout.” Kiira whispered while the group waited for their cue. Their sharp senses could just about pick out the smoke and hear the crackling of the fire raging inside the warehouse. It took the patrols 2 circuits to notice the black smoke that was now rising out of the tiles. To their credit the alarm was raised quickly. A few guards ran off to fetch water and reinforcements while the rest ventured inside to survey the fire. Judging by their curses and rapid escape, the crew’s plan was going well. At this stage the shades departed, their escape route on the opposite side of the group of guards. Jalmar stayed a moment longer so he could hear the large splash of the well’s bucket falling all the way down the pit when the carefully weakened rope gave away.

 

Even in the darkening autumn-sky over Vanzograd, the black plume of smoke was easily visible. The flames that raged through any opening in the walls and roof lit up the scene more effectively than any lantern could hope to do. " _At least the increased patrols probably got the alarm out sooner"_ was what Reija told herself as she looked with horror at the warehouse the city was about to lose. A woman in uniform shoved past her holding a bucket full of water. The flames hissed as the guards-woman dumped the contents through a window then turned about, her eyes wide with fright. Reija stepped in her way before she had taken more than 2 steps.

"Get out of the way! I have to put out the fire!" She shouted. The woman’s voice nearly cracked.

" _We_ have to put out the fire!" Reija shouted back. She put her hands on the woman's shoulders when she tried to muscle past again. "You can't do it alone. Where did you get the water from?"

The woman stammered some directions to a nearby well. 

Hands still firmly on the woman's shoulders Reija turned about to look at the assembled guards and civilians that had left their homes to watch the inferno. "We need to put out the fire before the warehouse collapses or it spreads to other buildings. Follow me!"

 

Black smoke was billowing from every opening in the warehouse-building now. Their job was accomplished, at least for this evening. Jalmar knew exactly how he could get to his safe-house from here but he wanted to observe the city's efforts to save the building. He found some enjoyment in watching them run about with buckets of water, trying to establish a bucket-chain. They must have known it was too late but still they worked. A person that had arrived moments after his departure seemed to be in general control, pointing and shouting at the building, groups of civilians and guards and the directions of the various water-sources the shades had scouted beforehand. Had the woman arrived maybe 5 minutes earlier she might have succeeded in saving the building and a substantial portion of the contents. Jalmar knew the woman would know it was too late but also that she would not relent.

He knew that about a Dawn Officer from a city he'd never visited before a mere week ago because Jalmar recognised the armoured woman immediately, the realisation like a punch to his stomach.

The woman taking charge of the rescue of the warehouse was Reija Bogovil, his former wife.

He put his hand forward to steady him before he toppled from the rooftop, his easy balance on the shingles removed in an instant.

 _We can't be spotted. We can't be spotted._ He thought to himself over and over like a mantra. In that moment all he wanted was to run to her, but it would compromise this and any future job in Vaulter territory. He couldn't stay here. Heedless of the precarious footing beneath him Jalmar turned about and hurried up and over the rooftop, his body taking him to the safe-house while his mind brought up old memories one by one.


	7. Heartache

Jalmar had to physically stop himself from simply kicking in the door to the safe-house. Luckily it was very early morning in Vanzograd so there was not anyone around to see him standing in the little entryway to an empty house, clutching the door-handle in a white-knuckled grip while he slowly calmed himself down with deep breaths.

He was hot and sweaty despite the morning chill, so the key slipped from his grasp as he brought it out. Normally he would have caught it before registering that he'd dropped it but this time he simply stared at it until it hit the stone. For a moment the ringing sound of metal-on-stone seemed the loudest noise Jalmar had ever heard. But it also shook him out of his stupor, so Jalmar took a deep breath and looked about the empty street. No-one seemed to be looking at him, so he slowly sat down on his haunches and picked up the key. It was a simple affair for a simple lock. He could have picked it in the blink of an eye but that would just seem suspicious and, given that their client had provided a few buildings throughout the city for the job, unnecessary. The key slid in smoothly and the lock turned with no complaint. The same could not be said for the hinges of the door. They sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Jalmar's sensitive ears. Resisting the urge to scan the street again, he took a step inside. The entrance was dark. A single lantern hung unlit from the ceiling. It was clear that their client Malesaria had not spent much time setting up these buildings for use. The only concession he felt to being inside was that the absence of wind chilling his skin, but besides that it was easily as cold inside as it had been outside. The room simply smelled of cold and dust. Past the entrance was a kitchen, albeit one with an empty hearth and no cutlery or pans anywhere to be seen. A few scattered chairs huddled in the middle of the room but there was no table. It had probably been too valuable to leave behind. Similarly, all the chairs that were not broken must have been brought along, for all the remaining chairs had a broken limb or some other defect. Jalmar took down the lantern and lit it with his tinderbox. Beyond the kitchen was a larger room with a table the previous owners clearly had not wanted to bring along. Jalmar could understand why. It looked demoniacally heavy.

Beyond the central room were two large bedrooms. He could not help but think of Reija again while he looked at the smaller room, clearly made for the parents of the family that had lived here. The Vaulters had kept to the ways they knew from their caverns when constructing their new cities. Jalmar tried not to think of his old life, the life with his wife Reija, as he made sure the door was securely locked and the windows, such as they were, were closed. Snuffing out the lantern, he forced himself to sleep, albeit uneasily.

 

When Jalmar awoke, the hours of sleep felt deeply inadequate. Sore, tired and irritable, he was glad that he would be alone in the safe-house for a day or two before he should re-join the others. Overall, he enjoyed their work and their companionship, but time alone, especially at a time like this, was a blessing.

 

Dusk had already passed when Jalmar arrived back at the safe-house the next day. He entered as calmly as he could, trying to look like a merchant that was tired from having been working the streets all day, rather than a shade of the night just raring to get back out there. The information he had heard about the Dawn Officers of the city, especially their offices in the cathedral and churches of Vanzograd, bounced about his head like crazed bees. He ate quickly, the hot soup nearly scalding his mouth. Then he laid out his tools to make sure none had developed dangerous defects. Knives, climbing tools, lockpicks and powder charges. Everything seemed in order.

Lastly, he donned the Clanner disguise again, applying the tattoo make-up as meticulously as he could manage. Jalmar must have killed near a score of people since they had been sent into exile and his hand had not trembled at the thought nor deed for near a decade. But now he was shaking. Jalmar had no cause to doubt his memory from but a day ago but he needed confirmation at the very least. He wasn't sure what he was going to do once he was there, but he needed to see Reija again. Lastly, he cleaned the house as best he could to remove any trace of his stay. He did not expect to return.

 

The hour was late when Jalmar finally left the house and turned the key. The street was abandoned so he entertained no theatrics in shuffling the safe-house key away and into a pocket. He stayed close to the buildings as he walked, trying to stay in the shadows without making it too obvious. He barely needed to; He saw few others on the streets. There was no official curfew in Vanzograd but Vaulter culture was not one to last into the night unless work called for it. Clanner culture, on the other hand, only got going once the sun began to hang low in the sky. In the scorching deserts where they lived it was the only way. In the cold climes where the Vaulters had settled after the Great Quake the nights were brutally cold. Jalmar was thankful for the padded leather he wore underneath the Clanner disguise. Without it he would be shivering even more. As he drew closer to the Cathedral, activity increased. More civilians wandering to or from the cathedral, as well as Clerics of the Great Orrery in their grey-and-red robes. Guard patrols, though there were less of them than when they had been scouting the warehouses. Jalmar supposed they had drawn more guard patrols to the warehouse district. He could hardly blame them. With 2 warehouses having been destroyed in the space of a week, Jalmar knew the Forgotten would do much the same in their situation. Winter was coming, and who know how long this one would be. Each 'season' the winters were harsher and longer. Vanzograd was impressive as a fortress and as an industrial hub. But high walls and furnaces would be of little help in a winter that might very well last a full year, especially so far north.

When compared to the rest of Vanzograd, the Cathedral was a singular work. Vaulter architecture was blocky, sturdy and simple, evidence of their heritage in tunnels and caves. Only a few very new buildings, as well as the central Palace, displayed any considerations for style and appearance. The Cathedral stood alone, raised on steps in a large open square surrounded by street-lights. It towered over the houses and workshops surrounding it, buttresses and slim towers giving it a unique presence in the city. Elegant designs of glass-steel stood out starkly against the dark-blue of the titanium and the stones. Glass was a relatively new part of Vaulter architecture and they had put as much of their knowledge of its use into the Cathedral, large stained-glass windows crudely depicting Vaulter history and mythology up until and immediately following The Great Quake. Jalmar had to admit it was striking and made him long for his home in the hidden enclaves the Forgotten had constructed for themselves after their exile.

A crowd was gathered in front of the Cathedral. A group of civilians, some in rough furnace-workers attire and some in lighter clothes, stood assembled in front of a group of Great Orrery Clerics and Dawn Officers. The Officers were easy to spot. Their uniforms also had a white sash which stood out well in the dark northern night. And their advanced armour, which was also part of their uniform, gave them a couple inches of height at the minimum as well as an enviable posture. All 3 Officers wore helmets.

Jalmar was still a fair distance away when he could hear the group's shouting. They were asking if the 'rumours' were true, if the winter supplies were truly going up in smoke. The clerics were trying to shout the crowd down. Jalmar noticed that they were not decrying the rumours, but rather they simply shouted for order. A few moments later, when the crowd had been reduced to mumbling amongst itself, one of the Dawn Officers stepped forward. Too broad and too tall to be Reija, by Jalmar's estimate. And the man's voice confirmed it.

"You have heard true. Two warehouses have been destroyed and the supplies within, trashed."

Another Dawn Officer stepped forwards. This one looked about right. "One to ravenous beasts and another to an accidental fire." Reija shouted. Her voice, so well-known to Jalmar, carried easily across the plaza. The crowd was entirely silent now. Reija stepped back again. Now Jalmar knew her uniform, she was easy to spot. She must be taller than him in that armour. He had always enjoyed teasing her about her height.

The first man spoke again. Now that Reija had silenced the crowd there was no need for the Dawn Officers to shout. "Worry not! The rest will be checked and made secure. We will make it through this coming winter."

The third Dawn Officer stepped forward. Short but stocky. Voice much shriller than the other two. "We will be reaching out to the workshops and factories to assess the remaining warehouses to ensure their safety. Now disperse!"

The crowd grumbled as crowds are wont to do but did as asked. A few older workers caught up with the stocky Officer and began hashing out some deal or other, probably to ensure that their workshop would get as much of the work as possible. The tall Officer in the lead scanned the square, his gaze resting only briefly on Jalmar, then turned, spoke a word to Reija, and headed for the Cathedral. Reija stood alone on the steps. Jalmar could not see her face but, knowing his former wife, she was probably lost in thought. He knew he shouldn't approach her. It was useless to their job in the city, or worse, he might endanger it by a slip of the tongue.

Nevertheless, his feet moved of their own volition and he found himself standing nearly beside her. He could practically reach out to touch her if he wished.

"Hmm. Ambassador Malesaria did not try to fool me for once. It truly is a beautiful work." Jalmar said in his Clanner voice. He wanted to thicken his fake accent even more than usual, but it might be too much.

Reija craned her head briefly then shook it and turned towards Jalmar. He wished fervently that he could see her eyes. _Just so I can see if she recognises me, for the good of the job, that's all._ "Excuse me?"

Jalmar grinned as far as he dared. "I am simply expressing my admiration for your Cathedral, Lady Reija, as reluctant as I might be to do so. It stands out well amongst your brick-like buildings."

At the mention of her name Reija stepped slightly closer and removed the helmet. It made a soft hissing noise as it disengaged from the powered armour. Her auburn hair was cut short but not quite crew-cut, but otherwise the face was just as simultaneously harsh and lovely as he remembered. Her eyes seemed suspicious but not recognising, thankfully enough. "How do you know my name?"

 _Shit._ "Ah, my apologies, I must have forgotten my manners on beholding the splendid Cathedral. I have a friend who is very interested in your culture and even more-so your religion, especially in the wake of your, uhm, relocation. Perhaps you've met him, a Sparian Wolkin? Old scrawny fellow."

The suspicion mostly left her features. For a moment Jalmar was again transported to a time before his exile. "If I have, I cannot remember.”

“He can be an unassuming fellow, old Wolkin,” Jalmar replied, trying to keep a grin on his face, “He knows a great many things about Vanzograd, including the names of its officials and Dawn Officers.”

Reija started slightly at that. “I am surprised he knows even the names of Dawn Officers. There are scant few citizens in Vanzograd itself that know."

"Indeed, old Wolkin was ever a sponge when it comes to information. Sucks it up and gives it up just as readily if squeezed." Jalmar responded then laughed loudly.

That made Reija smile. Jalmar felt both happy and pressured at that. He needed to leave, or he might never wish to leave. "You mentioned Ambassador Malesaria?" She said.

 _The cover story, stick to the cover story._ "Oh aye, me and my fellows have come here to see the city for ourselves, perhaps sell some wares and see if we can't learn a trick or two about handling the cold from your people. These abominable winters are hitting our Clans too, you see." Jalmar responded.

"The winters are even stretching to the deserts of your people?" The serious look returned to Reija’s features.

But before Jalmar could respond, the stocky Officer shouted something at Reija from the open double-doors of the Cathedral. She shouted something back then turned to Jalmar. "Apologies but duty calls. If you wish to see the Cathedral inside, the doors are always open. I hope you well and that you find what you seek for your people." She bowed then hurried away, boots noisy on the cobbled square.

Jalmar stood alone on the square looking at the love of his life walking away for a moment before turning away himself and headed back the way he came. He should go back to the others, finish the job then leave, get out of this city. But he couldn't just leave her now that he had found Reija again. But no matter how he imagined their meeting playing out, the job would be in danger.

 _But did that really matter?_ The thought came unbidden but it shocked Jalmar. What would the others think? _What did that matter. She is right there._ Jalmar stopped and turned again. He could just about catch a glimpse of the Officers heading inside the church. Reija didn't look back once. Of course, why should she? She had no reason to do so, but that thought did little to help Jalmar's mood, growing like a black storm-cloud.

Instead of heading back to the safe-house or the group's 'base', Jalmar turned back towards the Cathedral. Under the Clanner-cloak his hands idly checked all the weapons on his person. Each was secured in its space. The group of protesting workers had left the square so Jalmar was the only soul in the large open space. Dusk had nearly passed so it was dark, and the massive inner space of the Cathedral was largely empty. Save a couple of guards standing by a door to the far left of the central altar. The Dawn Offices. He needed to get past them. Trying his best to look the gawking tourist, he went around the far side of the altar from the guards. Out of the corner of his eye he could see them keeping an eye on him but not moving from their spot. So, they were guarding the door rather than the shrine. He thought he could probably take both but not before one would shout alarm. He would have to separate them.

Jalmar circled around the shrine, keeping a watch on his watchers through the corner of his eye. They lost him as he rounded the back of the large central shrine, an impressive titanium edifice to their Machine-focused religion, etchings depicting the events of the Great Quake and the Vaulter civilisation's mysterious past. He could hear the two sentries muttering, probably about him. Looking at the glass-steel-inlaid candle-stands formed an idea in Jalmar's head.

First, he took off the heavy scarves and coloured poncho that made up most of his Clanner disguise, stuffing them under a cabinet. He did not want to be weighed down for this. Then he kicked over one of the candle-stands. It clattered onto the dark stonework, making a horrible racket. Jalmar quickly stepped back, crouching as much as he could behind the little cupboards standing behind the shrine. The guards muttered between themselves and then Jalmar could hear one set of boots begin moving towards him. The shrine broke up the line of sight between the guarded door and the fallen candle-stand. Jalmar drew the knife on his thigh, holding it ready while he held his breath and allowed his Dust-tattoos to meld with the surroundings. The guard's boots appeared around the corner of the cupboard and Jalmar could hear the man sigh and mutter something about outsiders. The man took a few more steps forward and knelt, reaching forward to right the candle-stand. He never reached it. Jalmar surged forwards and kicked the man's foot out from under him, his left hand grabbing the back of the man's head and slamming it down as hard as he could. Jalmar barely registered the sickening crack of the man's head hitting the floor as the shade rammed his knife into the man's throat. Any possible cries of pain or alarm were silenced, and the body lay still, a large amount of blood pooling on the floor of the cathedral.

Jalmar kept moving, ripping his blade free and pulling the corpse into his little hiding spot. The other guard would have heard something. Normally Jalmar could kill quietly but he found he was almost beyond caring right now.

"Hans?" A man asked in a raised voice, as if on cue. "Did you fall again, you daft old man?"

Another pair of boots began stomping towards the rear of the shrine. Jalmar fell back quickly and looped around the large shrine, hurrying along as much as he could without making a racket.

"Hans!?" The voice was agitated, understandably so. His colleague was missing and there was a large pool of blood on the floor.

Jalmar rounded the other corner of the shrine, keeping an eye on the open double-doors as they passed into his view. Still no other visitors. Some would come eventually or one of the clergy would come and see the carnage. He had till then to do whatever it was he was here for.

The remaining guard was in front of him, leaning round the edge of the cupboard. From how he tensed up, it was clear that the game was up. Knife ready, Jalmar rose and ran forward to reach the man just as he turned about. He opened his mouth to shout but Jalmar punched out, his fist catching in the guard's mouth, his shout resulting in little but a shocked gurgle. Jalmar pushed forward hoping to topple the man but the sentry kept his feet, reaching up with his hands to try and pull the fist out of his mouth. The guard's eyes widened when Jalmar raised the knife and instinctively bit down on Jalmar's hand, raising his arm as much as he could to block the knife-blade. The sharp blade stabbed through the man's tunic and through the arm, the spike of pain causing him to bite down even harder on Jalmar's hand. He kicked the man in the gut as hard as he could from the awkward position, still hoping to topple him. Jalmar almost lost the grip on his knife, the handle slick with blood, but held on and ripped it out of the man's arm, ripping a good chunk of flesh free with it. Jalmar's hand burned with pain from the man's bite and he lost his breath when the guard kicked back, landing a knee-kick while still holding on to his hand. Jalmar's knife flashed again, lower this time, easily parting the tunic around the guard's stomach. The man gasped as if punched and his bite slackened. Jalmar thankfully ripped his hand out and gripped around the man's neck while his knife-hand kept stabbing, puncturing the man's lungs and heart. Before long he too was lying on the floor in a spreading pool of blood, though this time some of it was Jalmar's too.

His hand thudded with pain and he could barely make a fist. Wiping the knife-blade on one of the dead men's tunics and pulling a strip of bandage from a waist-pouch, Jalmar made for the door they had been guarding. Injured hand wrapped in bandage, it was only as he reached for the handle of the door that it occurred to him it might be locked, but if it had a lock it was not engaged for the door swung easily on silent hinges. Within was a hallway decorated in much the same style and grandeur of the larger Cathedral, but the ceiling was like a more regular corridor. Doorways sat interspersed along both sides with long spaces between. It seemed like a side-entrance to the Dawn Officer-complex for further along the wide corridor was a dark-blue titanium double-door, currently closed. He hurried inside and closed the door behind him, sticking to the wall on the left as he continued further inside. The first couple doorways led into empty offices, though both had lit candles and lanterns, suggesting recent use. From the third open doorway he heard a low voice and something like the scratchings of a pen. Holding his breath Jalmar slowly peeked around the corner and nearly gasped. Reija was inside, sitting at a large table poring over some document, muttering about supplies and patrol-routes.

In that moment all the years of Jalmar's careful training seemed to vanish like dust in the wind. He rose from his seated position and stepped forwards, holding himself steady against the wall of the corridor with his injured hand. Initially she seemed not to notice, but then she had always been one to lose herself in her work. He had found that endlessly endearing. He knocked slowly on the edge of the doorway. “Hello Reija. It’s been a long time.”

She looked up, at first with a curious glance like one wondering who would disturb them at such an hour but then realisation dawned on her face. "Jalmar, is that," Reija said, her voice breaking almost immediately, "Is that really you?" She slowly stood up from her chair, supporting herself on shaking legs.

Jalmar didn't say anything, simply nodded. Down the years he had thought of this moment more than a thousand times but now his thoughts betrayed him, and nothing came.

Now away from her desk Reija took a few tentative steps towards him. He stood still, not moving a muscle. Reija reached out to him, a shaking hand touching his chest then lightly caressing his face, running over all the scars and tattoos with a finger. She recoiled and stepped back, looking dumbfounded at her hand as if she could not believe what it was telling her. Then without a word she wrapped her arms around him before he could step away.

"It's really you! I, I thought you had died, Jalmar."

"I almost did." He responded awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come with you, didn't look for you. We both thought you had died in that winter." Reija hugged him tighter, eyes brimming over with tears.

Jalmar wrapped one arm around her, his own vision becoming clouded with tears. "It's okay, I'm here now." He gripped his knife in the other hand firmly then stabbed Reija just under the arm, twisting the weapon in the wound.

"I'm here now."

She stiffened in his arms immediately and tried to push away. His focus was off so Reija managed it, stepping backwards on unsteady legs and holding the bleeding wound. "Jalmar? What is thi-" The tone in his former wife's voice nearly stopped him. Steeling himself Jalmar stepped forwards and punched her, his injured hand flaring with pain from the impact, and spun her around before she could recover. His knife flashed again, stopping her voice for good. She gasped as she collapsed, mouth flapping like a fish out of water. He was dimly aware of the sound of approaching guards but could not find it in himself to care. The clattering stopped, and a man shouted at him from behind as Jalmar watched Reija's eyes glaze over.

Turning about, he barely managed a snarl before the air was punched out of him when 3 crossbow-bolts tore into his chest. He nearly fainted from the pain but held on, leaping forward with knife in hand. The guards ducked back, but too slowly, Jalmar striking at the closest one. But his mind was slowed with pain and his vision was already darkening so the sharp blade simply struck the marine in the chest to catch in chainmail. The knife slipped from his hand as he tumbled to the floor, immune to the pummelling from the guards out of simple shock. As his vision faded, Reija's shocked face was the last thing he saw.


	8. Epilogue

# Light on the Shadows

An older man stood up from his seat, his face lined with age and battle and the orange sash of the Dawn Officers across his chest. "In the light of Dawn Officer Reija Bogovil’s assassination by an unknown assailant, I move that the warehouse fires that have occurred in this week were deliberate acts of sabotage, rather than unfortunate and disconnected events." 'Aye's' of agreement sounded throughout the chamber.

"Well that's to be expected." Kiira Soininen mumbled to herself while she rested on the ledge just outside the window to the meeting room. She entertained the thought of busting through the window and taking out Vanzograd's leadership in the process but that was not their mission this time.

"That dumbass Jalmar really screwed up this time." Kaleva fumed on the other end of the ledge. The shade-woman was usually foul-mouthed but had been much more so since the city-guard had clearly been alerted to the presence of an 'unknown faction' within their city.

"So, what now?" Matleena asked. The man seemed unperturbed by the day's developments, devastating as they had been to the group of shades' presence and job in Vanzograd.

Kiira ran a hand through her hair, partially to hide that she was shaking slightly from the cold and from what had happened. Jalmar might have royally fucked up but she would miss him, nonetheless. "We keep going as before, attacking as if we think they haven't noticed us. Let them think we are fools. We'll need every edge we can to finish the job or escape, whichever comes first and last."

 

# Perspective

The wind howled around them, nearly blinding them with snow.

But the would-be exiles could see the most important thing all too clearly; the vast Vault-Door slowly closing as the guards worked the mechanisms to seal them out. Laine and the Officer had their argument of which nothing came and some of the exiles tried to get back in before the door closed, only to be turned back with force or have their limbs be caught in the mechanisms.

Jalmar had eyes for none of this. The only thing he saw was Reija, his wife, and Alexander, his best friend, with their arms around each other as the titanium door closed. 


End file.
